


Share My Body

by tebtosca



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: First Time, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Road Trips, Watersports
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-26
Updated: 2014-08-26
Packaged: 2018-02-14 21:33:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2203866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tebtosca/pseuds/tebtosca
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes Jared doesn't even know what he wants. Luckily, he has Jensen there to give it to him anyway.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Share My Body

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [this awesome prompt](http://spn-masquerade.livejournal.com/2393.html?thread=37209#t37209) for spn-masquerade

Jensen had told him not to buy that fifty ounce Cherry Cola Slurpee before they left the 7-11 and jumped back in the Chevy on the third leg of their road trip from Austin to California. Jared will recognize this factoid but only internally because Jensen doesn’t need to know he was _right_ , for God’s sake.

If you ask Jensen, he will tell you that he always knows best. Jared, being his best friend since the time in the sandbox when Jared threw a GI Joe at Jensen’s face and broke his glasses, making Jensen cry and leading to Jared getting the whooping of his _life_ \-- seriously – knows begrudgingly that it’s probably the truth.

However, as Jared sits there in the front seat of the truck and stares out at miles of what appears to be corn-fields with no gas station in sight, with his bladder filled to the brim and tickling his insides like a tiny yet excitable person under his skin, he finally relents.

“Jensen –“

“Nope.”

“You didn’t even let me finish the sent—“

“You were going to ask if we could pull over.”

“I was not…I totally was.”

“Mmmhmm.”

“C’mon, pull over, I gotta pee.”

Jared knows he’s whining, but the last of the Slurpee is mocking him internally and no one has time for _that_.

“You can hold it,” Jensen says, smug bastard that he is. He doesn’t even look at Jared, too busy staring straight ahead, both hands primly on the steering wheel like Jared’s grandmother.

“I’m going to pee my pants.”

“No, you won’t.”

“I’ll pee on the dashboard then.”

“Nope.”

“Just whip it out and, weeeee, piss all over the windshield.”

“Definitely not that one.”

Jared’s frustrated and annoyed and all those other adjectives that come into play when Jensen is being a dick to him.

Ugh, _dick_ reminds him of peeing, which reminds him he’s _not_ peeing, which ugh-ugh-ugh.

Jared squirms in the seat, hopping up and down a bit just for added dramatic flair, even as he can see Jensen rolling his eyes in his peripheral vision.

“What makes you think I won’t just piss all over your car if you don’t stop?”

Jensen’s fingers flex on the steering wheel. His voice is odder than before.

“Because I told you not to.”

Jared freezes, mouth opening and then snapping shut again. He swallows, hard, remembering.

Jared’s eighteenth birthday, a month prior. Too much Jäger mixed with Corona – a terrible combination, seriously, don’t do it— and Jared somehow ends up on his back on the big leather sofa in the basement rec room with Jensen above him. Jensen’s holding Jared’s wrists, not doing anything else, just crouching over him, contemplative-like, as he holds his wrists.

“Whatcha doin’, Jen?” Jared slurs.

“Don’t move,” Jensen whispers. Jared doesn’t.

They don’t talk about it the next morning as they fill black garbage bags with used red Solo cups.

Jared stares out the window of the truck at the corn fields, silent for once. His bladder is still pulsing, even more so now, a tiny obscene pain right smack in the center of him that won’t let up.

One of Jensen’s hands come off the steering wheel. It comes over and brushes against the side of Jared’s cheek, pushing a lock of bangs out of Jared’s face. Jared leans into it, just a little bit, but still doesn’t say anything.

==

They must have driven another ten miles, maybe twenty, Jared can’t be sure. He’s nearly delirious now, the tension in his abdomen so intense that he thinks if he breathes too hard he might piss all over himself.

Jensen’s had that one hand on Jared’s denim-covered knee almost the entire time. It’s comforting somehow, and Jared concentrates on it so that he doesn’t think about what he’s _not_ being allowed to do.

Jared stares intently at the round knuckles with the light dusting of freckles spattered across them. The fingers are long, thick, could probably fit in places that would make Jared blush to consider. The nails are rounded and buffed, taken care of, like Jensen himself.

Jensen takes care of Jared, too. Always has. When Jared’s Mama gave him that whooping for breaking Jensen’s glasses, Jensen came over to him later and gave him half his ice-cream sandwich, tear tracks still drying on his round freckled face.

“Okay, we’re here,” Jensen says, his voice soft. He takes his hand away, and puts the truck in park.

It brings Jared out of his reverie, which causes the sensations to come coursing back to him. He hisses, the weirdest sort of pain he’s ever felt overwhelming him.

He barely registers that Jensen has gotten out of the truck before Jensen’s opening the passenger side door and pulling Jared from the cab. Jared almost pees his pants right there, just from moving his body, but Jensen whispers “not yet” and soothes a hand over Jared’s hair as Jared whimpers.

Jensen’s dragging him into a bathroom, must be at a rest stop somewhere, but Jared too entrenched with keeping his desperation at bay to notice they’ve left the corn fields.

Jared hears the door shutting behind him but all he can think of is the pressure in his bladder, the sensation that has gone past tickling and tipped over into ice picks stabbing. He doesn’t do anything though, just stands there, waiting for Jensen to make the next move, and even though he doesn’t know _why_ , he still knows it’s _right._

Then Jensen’s unzipping Jared’s pants, and Jensen’s pulling Jared’s too-sensitive dick out, and Jensen’s holding it tender but firm as he aims it at the urinal in the corner.

“Now,” Jensen whispers right into the shell of Jared’s ear, his body, snug alongside Jared’s back as he holds Jared’s dick for him and gives him what he needs.

The hissing sound of the first burst of pee is loud, cacophonous, mixed in with the low moan Jared releases. It’s better than the best orgasm Jared’s ever had in his life, especially with Jensen’s hand on his dick and Jensen’s lips mouthing kisses underneath the hair on his neck.

The stream goes on forever, the humid air in the tiny bathroom thick with the scent of ammonia and sweat. It feels like it’s never going to end, and Jared’s not sure he wants it to. As the pain decreases, the fear rises up in him. Is this just a fluke? Will Jensen think he’s sick fuck now that once the piss is gone, his dick is hardening just because Jensen’s hand is holding it?

He doesn’t have much time to worry, because once the sound dissipates, and the last final drops are wrung out of him, spent, Jensen spins him around and presses him against the ancient sink before leaning in to bite the best kiss of Jared’s eighteen years of life into his mouth.

It’s then that Jared remembers that they just started this trip – there are a hell of a lot of miles left to go.


End file.
